


The Right Thing

by timetripping



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Slight Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetripping/pseuds/timetripping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*SPOILERS FOR MAIN PLOT* </p>
<p>The Inquisitor is shaken by her decision to let Florianne kill Celene before taking her down; she finds herself in Cullen's study, looking for someone to stand by her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Thing

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a one-shot low key fluff because my life has been nothing but DA for like, a few months since I got into it and Inquisition is killing me with all the romance. Uh, I have some longer stuff in the mill currently but I haven't figured out where I want either to go and I feel like a short foray is a good entrance. I didn't feel like actually writing the scene to completion, as you could say, but I might later. I mean, I definitely will later, but it might not be connected explicitly to this scene. But like, is that really what I'm aiming for in this instance? Nah. Also, I had a slightly different idea in the beginning so if there's anything that seems really out of place, know that I did exactly 0 actual proofing. 
> 
> (Also, I just finished this mission and Cullen asking Lavellan to dance at the end straight up destroyed me. My Inquisitor's name is Sryana, and she's a Dalish mage.)

The Inquisitor wandered without thinking where her steps were taking her. The Inquisition had taken a step forward, politically, but the sight of the blood blossoming at the front of the Empress’s bodice… sentencing someone to death like that was a foreign burden. While she had killed a dozen on the last expedition into the Hinterlands, it felt different when the deed wasn’t done by the end of her stave. The choice to kill was hard when your own life wasn’t hanging in the balance, and yet still she had made it. Leliana and Cullen’s advice was likely sound; even if Empress Celene had lived, there was no guarantee Orlais wouldn’t descend into chaos. This way, there was certainty. Briala held all the real power, Gaspard had already made overtures of good faith. Still, Sryana’s gut told her that action devoid of personal emotion wasn’t something she should make a habit of. It was with a heavy heart she made her pardons to Josephine.

“I’m done for the day,” she said quietly, and the ambassador did not question her. Sryana had first gone to her private quarters, to evade the lingering few who couldn’t read her as easily, but the pacing only served to set her more on edge. She drew up her hood and snuck back out into the main hall, walking through Solas’s conservatory. He gave her a disaffected nod; Varric had recently gifted him a book about the ruins he had last dreamt at and he appeared thoroughly engrossed. Sryana swung open the door and walked across the rampart. Cullen lifted his head at the noise.

“Inquisitor! I… thought you were in your quarters.” He hastily stood up from his chair and bowed slightly. Sryana closed the space and leaned against his desk, unable to meet his eyes.

“We both kill.” He raised his eyebrows. “But have you ever orchestrated someone’s death?” Her question was earnest, and he sank back down into his seat, considering how to respond.

“Uh, not quite. As a templar it was included in my duties that I should kill any mage turned abomination. When I worked for the Circle in Ferelden, on Lake Calenhad… well. I had to stand at guard at Harrowings.” Noticing Sryana’s confusion, he elaborated. “In Circles, mages must undergo temptation before they are allowed full privileges. Their Harrowing is this test; if they fail, and strike a deal with a demon, they are put to the sword.” Now he stood and walked to look out the window. “I never had to do it. But I felt that duty whenever a mage talked to me. Their death was always in my eyes.” He fell silent. Sryana held her head in her hands.

“So many people have died for me,” she said, her voice cracking. Cullen turned to see tears dripping off her cheeks. “Why did I have to kill this one more? Why Celene? She had the support of the court… what if I made the wrong call? I could’ve ended this without death. I could’ve…” She choked on her tears and turned her head so he could no longer see her face. His heart felt as if it split. He crossed the room to her and took her in his arms. Her body was wracked with silent sobs and she buried her face in his shoulder. Cullen searched for the right words, but found none. Instead he just held onto her even more. Eventually she calmed again, and drew back, keeping her fingers knotted tightly in his pauldrons.

“Please,” Sryana whispered, staring into his eyes, beseeching. “Tell me I didn’t condemn that woman to death for nothing.”

“You did the right thing,” he answered, and brought his lips down to hers. She met him fully, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her lips were salty from the tears; he pulled back to kiss them off her cheeks. He graced a final one on her forehead before touching his to it.

“You did the right thing.” He lead her to the sofa in the corner of the room and sat her down, kneeling at her side and gazing up. “It is in the nature of your job to make difficult decisions. It is the nature of mine to give you the best counsel; I told you then that I supported Gaspard, and I feel the same now. I support you, Lavellan.” He risked a small smile, and she gave a small laugh in return, looking up at the ceiling and blinking away the last of the tears.

“Thank you, Cullen.” Her eyes flashed, a familiar spark. “Rutherford.” Now he laughed, loudly this time.

“Yeah, thanks. I was worried you’d missed that.” She smiled and reached her hand down to take his.

“Would you kiss me again?” she asked softly. “It was...nice. I needed that.” He felt as if his chest may burst.

“Yes, my lady.” This time each took time to delight in the other’s presence. Sryana felt as if his hand on hers was electric, and wondered absently if she was, in fact, letting off ambient magic. Cullen drank in her smell, a combination of something both earthy and flowered, likely a byproduct of her time in Skyhold’s garden. His hand slipped to the small of her back, and slowly he rose until he was leaned over her. She fell back against the arm of the lounge and pushed his cape off his shoulders. He withdrew again, breathing more heavily than he had been.

“Lavellan...are you sure?” His brow crumpled in concern. “My room is not the most private in the Hold.” She sighed.

“You’re right.” She ran a finger along the front of his armor. “Save a dance for me, Commander. I’ll be in my room, when you’re free.” He shifted his weight off of her and she stood up, running a hand through her hair. He looked up at her, in wonder, sure that she could see in his eyes how much he adored her in that moment. Everything about her seemed particularly bright. The ink of her tattoos more black than ever before, the reddening of her lips and cheeks stronger. “As the Orlesians would say.. au revoir, emma lath.” Her lips tweaked up at the corners, coyly, and she disappeared through the door. Cullen let her lingering presence wash over him as he tried to remember what emma lath meant; it was no Orlesian he was familiar with.

 


End file.
